


Clutch

by gonnapop



Series: Pokémon Breeders [8]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Forced Pregnancy, Mpreg, Oviposition, Pheromones, Pokephilia, Reverse Harem, Trans Male Character, birth kink, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 01:53:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17479007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gonnapop/pseuds/gonnapop
Summary: Lost in the wilderness, a trainer is lured into a Salazzle’s nest, where he’s turned into an unwilling incubator for the Pokémon’s eggs.





	Clutch

**Author's Note:**

> based on a prompt that I received on tumblr. thank you for the inspiration, anon—it was a huge turn-on. I hope you enjoy the fic!
> 
> I know that snakes technically have cloaca (a kind of multipurpose hole), but for our purposes, please imagine that Salazzle has something closer to a vagina. this is pure fantasy.
> 
> so apparently, the “reverse harem” thing is actually canon: all Salazzle are female, and they’re surrounded by a harem of male Salandit.

What Reed remembers most clearly is the smell. Though the rest of his memories are blurry, the scent stands out in his mind—because it still surrounds him now.

While traveling through scrubland, he lost the trail. He’d been wandering most of the day, attempting to reorient himself, sweating through his clothes as he trekked. He became increasingly worried.

Something rustled in the brush nearby. Reed turned, hoping it was a fellow trainer who could help him find his way back to town.

Then he saw her. Salazzle. Dark gray and sinuous, she slithered out from the dense shrubs.

She was female, naturally, like all the rest of her kind. Her belly was noticeably swollen, enough to slow her movements, and Reed knew enough about Salazzle to guess that she was full of eggs, ripe for breeding.

He also knew Salazzle were generally attended by a harem of Salandit, the males of the species, which tended to all the female’s needs. So where were they? Surely this close to breeding, they should be fussing over their mistress.

Then a wave of scent rolled over him, powerful and strange, clouding his mind. The world faded away.

He knew nothing but darkness until he woke on the floor of a dim cave, stripped naked and stretched across a bed of leaves and grass.

Some part of Reed knows he should be afraid. His heart should be slamming against his ribcage. He should get up. Figure out where he is. Learn what happened to him.

But he feels strangely peaceful, like this is exactly where he should be. The air is full of the same scent that overpowered him before. He just wants to keep breathing it in.

Reed glimpses movement out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head is an effort, but he manages.

It’s her again. Salazzle, sidling up beside him.

Her scaly hands are surprisingly soft when she touches him. Reed sighs as she strokes his bare skin, content. There’s an ache between his thighs; he’s becoming aroused from her attentions, and the gleam in Salazzle’s eyes makes him think that was her intention. He doesn’t know what Salazzle wants from him him, but he wants her to have it, whatever it may be.

This isn’t like him. Reed isn’t one of those perverts who gets around with Pok émon. He’s only watched a little of the vast quantities of niche porn available online. He didn’t even like it… much.

But right now, he can’t find it in him to resist. He thinks he wants this, whatever it is, in a way he’d never expected.

Loose-limbed and pliant, Reed lets Salazzle position him on his back, legs spread wide, cunt on display. He’s wetter than he realized, from just a few caresses.

Salazzle lodges something under his hips, tilting his pelvis upward. She straddles him, one leg hooked over his thigh, a kind of scissoring position. The position seems awkward for her, with that swollen belly in the way.

Reed feels a slick, cool stickiness against his skin that he thinks, foggily, must be her cunt. She’s slotting it against his, and he shudders at the unexpected pressure on his sore clit.

A moment later, something cool and stiff bumps against his slick hole; it feels fleshy, not unlike a cock. As Salazzle draws back slightly and then lines herself up again, pressing together, the narrow object nudges at his hole again.

Then it hits him: an ovipositor. He once read that Salazzle are equipped to either carry their own eggs or lay them inside a host for incubation. She must’ve dropped her ovipositor just for him.

She’s attempting to insert her pseudo-cock inside his body, to lay her eggs and make him pregnant with her brood.

Reed locks up at the realization, his muscles tensing, his mind lighting up with alarm—but the thick, heavy scent washes over him again, clouding his thoughts.

He feels warm and languid. Suddenly, the details don’t matter. The narrow ovipositor slides home, and their hips slot together.

He feels pressure at his entrance, the ovipositor bulging around a solid object—it’s curved, and there’s some give to it. An egg. Salazzle rocks a little, grinding their cunts together. Her leg muscles tense when she bears down, ovipositor flexing. As the egg pushes inside, there’s a painful stretch—the egg is bigger than Reed would’ve thought, a bit larger than a golf ball, though the shell isn’t hard—a moment of uncertainty, and then his body yields, cunt rippling just enough to suck the egg down inside, like it belongs there. He moans when he feels it sliding deeper, a foreign mass. Salazzle makes a noise of satisfaction, her cunt pulsing against his.

Another egg follows, and then another. Soon, she’s laid more eggs than Reed can easily count. She keeps rubbing their bodies together, scissoring, seeking the best position. Pressure mounts between Reed’s thighs, bright and hot.

Finally, she tips herself just the right away, and the friction becomes too much. Reed comes, groaning incoherently, cunt spasming; the rhythmic muscle contractions work the eggs deeper into his body. All the while, Salazzle continues to push more eggs into his cunt.

Reed doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he’s feeling full, in a way he’s never experienced before. Glancing at himself, deliriously, he sees that his lower belly is bulging, stuffed full of eggs. But when Salazzle leans over him, bathing him in that mind-numbing scent, he can feel that her belly is still swollen with eggs, straining against his. She has plenty more to lay inside him.

Once, the thought would’ve horrified him, but just now, it seems like the natural order of things.

His eyes fall shut, the ovipositor still pulsing gently inside of him, and gradually, the world fades away.

***

When Reed comes to, there’s a weight on him, pinning him to the ground—a Salandit, he realizes blearily. It’s male, if the cock shoving in and out of his cunt is anything to go by. He has no idea how long the male has been fucking him like this, only that each slide is wet and loose and easy.

Reed struggles for a moment, groggy and confused, but that smell washes over him again. It’s clinging to the male’s scaly body, and it makes Reed’s eyes roll back in his head and his thighs fall open wider. The male grunts and shoves, his flat stomach sliding against Reed’s rounded one with each thrust.

Finally, the male comes inside him with a muffled cry. Reed has a brief mental image of semen washing over the eggs in his womb—fertilizing them, his brain supplies. Impregnating him. He shivers at the thought, but it’s strangely pleasurable.

The Salandit rolls off him, and another immediately takes his place, rutting away. A few minutes later, he’s replaced, too. Reed had wondered where the Salazzle’s harem was. Now he knows: They were just waiting until their mistress had prepared Reed for them.

Reed barely feels the vigorous fucking at this point; it’s like the hole between his legs has been so thoroughly used that it’s now desensitized. He lies there, pliant and semiconscious, until the current male comes—and once again, a different Salandit appears and mounts him.

Above Reed is a blur of bodies, a delirium of cocks spearing him open and the sounds of skin slapping. He’s not sure if it’s a never-ending line of males, or if they’re rotating in and out, taking a rest before fucking him again.

He doesn’t know how long it goes on, either. He can feel himself swelling bigger with every load. He’s taut and round, belly straining, stuffed full of come and eggs.

Someone is moaning, and it takes Reed a moment to realize that it’s him. They’re not moans of pleasure, but a sickly kind of discomfort. He’s so full. His belly sloshes painfully with each thrust.

When at last the fucking stops, he feels come dribbling out of his cunt. He’s stretched wide open. Gaping. So full he can barely move.

Two of the males gently turn him onto his side, and it’s a little more comfortable that way. Comfortable enough for him to fall into an exhausted, delirious sleep.

***

Some time later, Reed wakes, his belly round and full.

That’s now he knows that whatever came before wasn’t a dream.

He’s tucked in some kind of nest—deep, and padded with layered scraps of cloth. He’s still naked, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone else around. With a trembling hand, Reed touches his belly.

It looks like he swallowed a melon. The skin is stretched taut. When he presses, gently, he can feel the rounded shapes of the eggs inside him. He can’t guess at how many there might be. Dozens, surely. Little future Salandit, packed inside his womb.

Reed’s breath comes faster, panic starting to rise. Pushing himself upright is a struggle with his belly in the way. He’s not sure how far he can walk like this, but he’s got to try.

Slowly, with effort, he manages to roll onto his knees and grab the side of the nest. As he hauls himself into a kneeling position, his heart drops.

Salazzle is there, just outside the nest, watching him with those dazzling silver eyes.

“You’ve got to let me go,” Reed says. His throat is tight. He can feel his pulse through his whole body. “Please. This isn’t right—”

Salazzle hisses softly, and her scent washes over him.

Reed melts into the nest.

***

The eggs grow bigger each day, and so does Reed, his belly rounded out enormously. Before long, he can see the eggs outlined against his stretched skin.

When the eggs begin to wriggle inside of him, as though restless, he’s afraid he’ll actually split down the middle.

Reed’s belly isn’t the only part of him that’s growing. His tits are swollen, too, aching and painful to the touch. The little Salandit won’t need milk, of course, but his body doesn’t know that. All it knows is that his womb is full and it should prepare for a baby.

He’s much too big to tend to his own needs, or even to get out of the nest, so the males—the harem of nine Salandit studs that Salazzle keeps around to do her bidding and inseminate her eggs—bring him food and water, help him wash himself and change positions in the nest. Sometimes they sleep beside him in the nest, or stroke his belly with all the reverence of a sacred object, while he lies there, helplessly swollen.

It’s strange to think that he’s full of their offspring, too, not just Salazzle’s: They all inseminated him, their seed washing over Salazzle’s eggs.

Reed’s not sure how clearly they understand it, though, or how much they care, addled by the pheromones. Most of the time, their eyes are glazed with a disconcerting animal lust, which makes Reed think they’re acting instinctively. Maybe Reed himself is giving off a certain smell at this point, one that compels the harem to gentle attentiveness.

Keeping track of time is impossible. The den where Salazzle and the harem keep him is dim at all hours. Sometimes he can hear the wind whistling across the scrubland, or the drumming of spring rain. But he knows nothing else of what’s happening in the world outside. He just keeps getting bigger.

Now and then, Salazzle comes by to admire the great belly that holds her brood. She prods gently at Reed’s distended middle, hissing her approval when the eggs twitch visibly and Reed moans in pain. After that, she usually releases her pheromones to soothe him.

As far as Reed is concerned, it’s the least she can do.

***

The longer Reed gestates, the more he sleeps. He’s too pregnant to do much else. One day, a cramp wakes him from his nap: sharp and painful, radiating across his swollen belly.

He thinks nothing of it at first. With his body stretched to the limit and the eggs wriggling inside him at all hours, he’s often in pain. But then another cramp comes, and another, each one stronger than the last.

After a few hours of intermittent cramps, he realizes what’s happening: He’s in labor. The eggs are coming.

Somehow, the males notice this. Maybe Reed is giving off a different scent now that he’s ready to lay the eggs. The males gather around the nest, pushing food at him, offering water.

Eventually, Salazzle comes to oversee the process. She slithers around outside the nest, as though impatient.

The labor goes on for hours. Reed’s belly ripples with contractions, which get longer and closer together. He’s moaning through them just to cope. Because he’s much too big to change positions on his own, the males have to help him: turning him from one side to the other, arranging him so he’s on his knees.

He’s kneeling, legs spread as wide as they can go and hands braced against the bottom of the nest, when he feels a sudden pop. Hot fluid gushes out of him, flowing down his thighs and soaking the nest below him.

A pathetic moan escapes Reed. He struggles to crawl to a dry spot; he’s so huge that his belly touches the densely-packed floor of the nest as he shuffles away. The males help him settle on his side again, where he struggles to catch his breath.

Soon, he tells himself. This will be over soon.

Long hours later, Reed notices a strange pressure between his thighs. It’s confusing: He feels almost as if he needs to have a bowel movement. Finally, it hits him that his body is telling him to push.

Sensing that it’s time, some of the males support Reed’s body as he gets into a kneeling position again. He hears Salazzle behind him, undoubtedly looking at his cunt, which is spread open.

Another contraction peaks, and Reed forces himself to push with it, moaning. The pressure between his thighs mounts.

Reed pushes and pushes, sweating and rocking his hips. He feels something move lower inside him, toward the mouth of his cunt, but he can’t seem to squeeze it out.

He’s breathless, cheeks wet with tears and close to giving up. Then Salazzle’s scent washes over him once again.

The pain seems to melt away, becoming suddenly unimportant to Reed. He feels nothing but pressure and the urge to push. When his belly tightens with another contraction, he has the strength to push again.

If the eggs were golf balls going in, they’re tennis balls coming out. Panting and pushing, Reed feels the delicate skin of his cunt pull tight around the egg.

He pushes, thighs trembling, and feels an enormous stretch. Then the egg seems to pop out of him, along with a little gush of fluid. It lands in the soft nest, presumably unharmed, but there’s no time to examine it, because Reed can feel another egg coming.

The second is easier, and the third even easier than that. Reed loses himself to the rhythm of birthing. Each egg feels about the size of a fist, and now the stretch is strangely pleasurable. When he tires, Salazzle bolsters him.

Egg after egg falls into the nest between his legs. He has no idea how many have come out of him, until the pains stop and the males help him turn onto his side. His breasts are throbbing, like his body is telling him to feed the baby it thinks he’s just delivered.

Reed lies there, exhausted but strangely content, his body singing with hormones. He stares at the pile of round white eggs that the males have rolled into the middle of the nest. There are dozens of eggs. He almost can’t believe he just gave birth to them.

Salazzle crawls into the nest, curling her sinuous body around the eggs, looking pleased.

She sighs, and her scent washes over Reed once more, lulling him to sleep.

***

After the birth, Reed is weak and exhausted. Though he’s unencumbered by the weight in his belly, he needs a lot of help from the males to wash and feed himself. His breasts are full to bursting, dribbling milk and incredibly painful; the Salandit often nurse from him to relieve the pressure, one at each breast. But he always fills up again.

The Salandit are stretched thin, dividing their attention between Reed and Salazzle, who hasn’t left the eggs for a moment. She tends them closely, waiting for them to hatch. It could be a few weeks before that happens.

Reed eats and drinks as much as he can, never turning away food that the males offer to him. Little by little, he feels his strength returning. When he has a chance, he promises himself, he’s going to escape the den.

In time, he notices the eggs twitching more. They’re close to hatching, he suspects. If he’s going to flee, it should be soon, while Salazzle is preoccupied with her eggs.

One night, when the Pok émon are asleep, Reed decides to make a break for it. He can’t afford to wait any longer.

Slowly, cautiously, aware of each movement, he shuffles on hands and knees to the other side of the nest. He crawls past Salazzle, who is curled up around her eggs, breathing deeply. The males are sleeping on the ground outside the nest.

Just as he moves to climb out of the nest, something rustles behind him. He freezes. Then he turns to see Salazzle, awake, peering at him in the semidarkness. Her pink tongue darts out, probably tasting his fear on the air.

Reed’s heart drops when she unfurls herself from around the eggs, straightening.

Her belly is round and bulging. Swollen with eggs. Ready to impregnate him.

Salazzle’s scent fills the air, and Reed drifts away.

The breeding cycle is about to begin again.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is part an ongoing series of unrelated pregnancy kink stories that I work on in my spare time. if you have specific scenarios you'd like to see, please feel free to let me know in the comments, or [on tumblr](http://gonna-pop.tumblr.com/ask). (the more details the better.) if the prompt inspires me, I might just write it for you!


End file.
